


How we were meant to be

by MishCon



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, POV Will Graham, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-27 19:42:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishCon/pseuds/MishCon
Summary: There is a string of three murders- their nature chilling. Jack asks Will to help, as always, and Will finds himself split on his thoughts about the killer, and what this means for him. He consults with Hannibal. His 'friend'. It doesn't go as planned, and Will finds himself even more buried in the void of emotions and feelings between himself, Hannibal, and this killer.





	How we were meant to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfgraham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfgraham/gifts).

> Hello. Hi. So- I'm new here.  
This is the first time I've written a Hannigram story. I started it quite some time ago and ended up stopping due to writer's block. I managed to pick it up again, and I think you can probably tell where I left off. Anyways- this is honestly a mess. I wasn't too sure where I was going with it. It was originally going to be a Will x m!reader but ofc ended up turning into Hannigram suddenly and I just went with it.  
Regardless-  
I hope you enjoy this mess at least a little bit.
> 
> This is dedicated to a friend of mine. Happy birthday :3  
I know you said you din't want anything, but I decided to get my shit together and finish this. I hope you like it, and again, happy birthday!
> 
> You gave me motivation to finish.

There was one- two- three- four knocks on the door, each knock waking Will farther. His lids were heavy from an almost sleepless night, body covered in sweat like usually. Limbs heavy, he pushed himself from the bed, dragging his body to the door. He missed the doorknob when he first tried to grasp it, succeeding after and opened the door to a familiar face, even if it was lit by the sun that blared in his eyes.

"Jack...what are you doing here?" Will questioned, voice still rough from sleep. His mind was still foggy, needing concentration to be able to understand what his friend was saying.

"We need your help on a case. Get dressed." His voice was urgent and authoritative- demanding.

"What time even is it?" Will groaned as he returned back inside, Jack following. He glanced at the digital clock on his bedside table that read 5:23 AM. "Want to tell me what's so urgent you had to come to my house?" Will groaned as he grabbed some clothes, taking them with him as he got in the bathroom to change.

"I didn't have to come, but I did because I've called you at least twenty times. You didn't answer," He explained, speaking loud enough Will could hear him from the other side of the door. He was quick to discard his sleeping attire and replace it with the clothes he would be wearing, splashing his face with cold water to try and wake himself up more.

"But I felt like I should have come anyway. That way I can get you up to speed...or prepare you." Will's brow furrowed at the words, wiping his face with a towel before he came back out, "Prepare me for what?" He sounded more like himself, less tired now that his attention was on this mystery case.

"Do you remember the body from last week? The man that was missing his heart?" Will remained silent, the look on his face telling Jack to go on.

"Well...we found another two victims..." Jack spoke almost hesitantly like he was choosing his words carefully. Will, still remaining silent continued to look at him, his look alone speaking for the words he never said. "You should see it for yourself..." He sighed, both of them making their way to the car.

Before Will left the house he had to make it through the obstacle that were his dogs, as lively as always, seeking his attention right when he wasn't able to give it to them.  


*  


Shortly the pair arrive at their destination, making their way through the busy halls until they reached the room of interest. Right there in front of Will lay three different bodies- one a week old and the other two a few days less. He had to check.

"Tell me what you see..." Jack said, his voice...hesitant, a hint of fear.

Will stepped closer, unable to ignore the obvious. Three deceased males- relatively short, slightly curly brown hair, eyes a mixture of blue and green, the average height of 170 to 180 centimeters, aged 34 as it was written on the clipboards placed next to them. Each had a stubbled face and strikingly similar features-

"_They all look like me._"

Will whispered, eyes scanning each victim again and again-

"This can't be a coincidence...and they're all missing their hearts...do you think there's some kind of symbolism?" Jack asked, watching Will as he stared at the bodies.

"There always is some symbolism or meaning..." Will said, his voice distant as he observed what lay before him for the tenth time. "And what do you make of this?" Will took a breath, finally tearing his eyes away. "It's directed at me. A sort of message or...confession." He began, his fingers messing with each other in an anxious habit. "He wants my heart for himself."

"Do you think there will be more?" He didn't really know if he wanted to hear the answer. "I don't know. There could be..." Will sighed, his thoughts a mess. "Alright, I'm taking you off this case and sending someone to watch you."

Will's head turned to Jack, a hint of anger in his expression and tone. "No, Jack. I don't need protection. This killer- I don't think he's a danger to me. If anything he may want to even protect me."

"Protect you? Did you see what he did to those three? You even said it- he wants to rip your heart out. Isn't that concerning enough?" Will let out a groan, irritated at how stupid Jack could sometimes be. "No, Jack, not literally. He wants my heart for himself, out of _love_. Not physically. It's symbolic."

"Whatever sort of sick love this is anyway..." Jack spat, not at Will but at the killer. "And what do you think he's gonna do next? Send you a poem written in blood?" Jack sighed, obviously bothered and disturbed.

"I don't know, Jack. How am I to know? There isn't any evidence to point me anywhere or to hint at anything. The only thing we can do is wait. The killer could be a stranger or someone who knows me- there's no way of knowing since I'm such a 'celebrity' my face's all over things like Tattle crime already...but it feels...intimate in some way..." He whispered the last part, his feelings towards this killer...unsure.

"I can't just wait when there's a killer loose-"

"Well, there isn't anything you can do about it, Jack! Trust me, I'm just as unhappy about this as you are, but there really isn't anything more we can do, except double-check for any prints or other leads. Now if you excuse me- I need to go."

Will rushed off, body shaking from the burst of sudden anger that left all that were present silent and stunned.  


*  


Will didn't know how to feel. The killer...he obviously had a sort of love for him, if it even was a he- for all he knows it could be a them.

He fiddled with the lock, hands a bit shaky as the key finally slipped in properly. He pushed the door open, his dogs greeting him like always and he had to fight his way in through them. Not that he minded.

He shrugged off his jacket and left it on a chair, finding his place on the bed and was soon joined by Winston, all the other dogs settling in their own respective places on the ground.

Will had killed before- much to his disgust at times and knew what it takes to take a life. So to think that someone is doing it _for_ or _because_ of him was-... A sigh left his body, his shoulders tense as always. He didn't know how he felt, and he didn't know what the killer was getting at, which only piled up on his anxiety and nervousness, that were starting to turn into intrigue.

He wanted to know more about this mystery person, whether he already has, but not the _real_ them, rather only a layer of their being they are willing to show.

And if he doesn't know them...should be just as thrilling. At times he hated the fact he loved killing, and other times he wondered why he felt that way, but at the end, you can not control emotions, so he just had to cope through them.

But this time...this time he definitely didn't care as much as he 'should'. It both scared and aroused him in a way, making the experience that much more exciting.

He needed some guidance through this. Someone that could listen and help in a way. Jack obviously is not an option, so isn't Alana- that left none other than Hannibal. He has killed way longer than Will has, and just generally having someone else there next to himself would help, even if just a little.  


*  


Will didn't call before he decided to drive over to Hannibal's, having done this a couple of times already. He simply knocked on the door of his _friend's _office and waited, not long after hearing the door open.

There stood Hannibal, escorting out a crying and sobbing patient that was none other than Franklin, a box of tissues in hand. Will took a step back, the feeling of being close to anyone- specifically someone who was covered in snot- repulsive.

After the sound had died down, meaning the man was out of earshot and practically out the front door, Hannibal stepped aside like the gentleman he was, holding the door wider.

"Come right in, Will." He offered, the accent Will missed finally swimming around him as the other spoke. It was hard to say Hannibal was his friend because...simply he wasn't. He was something much more- unnamed.

Some would quickly call it 'love', but what was between them went into a much more destructive category. Brutal and merciless. If they began this 'romantic relationship' it is hard to say which would consume the other first, so there stood an agreement between the two, since they were both smart enough to see why it wouldn't work- even if in so many ways it would.

They were both seated in their rightful places, facing each other.

"Did you come here as a patient, a friend, or something more?"

It was the question that was always said between the two. Even if they agreed on some terms, sometimes they couldn't stop each other- resulting in proximity, intimacy, and even sex. Usually, they drew the line when one was about to pass out from blood loss or had to be stitched up. Oh, boy was it fun coming up with excuses for the injuries when Jack asked.

Now that he mentioned it...distraction might help him take his mind off it for a bit...return to the task later with a fresh perspective...

He shook the thought away, needing to stay on topic but he couldn't help the indecisiveness slip through his fingers.

"I'm...not sure." His words came out slow and careful, only earning an understanding nod from the man opposite him.

"That is quite alright. We can figure it out together." His smile made Will's skin crawl, but this really wasn't the time, so he moved on the conversation.

"Have you heard of the most recent case?" He started, trying to hide the way the pitch in his voice rose with his nervousness from before.

"I can not say I have. Tell me about it." The accent was thick as the words urged Will, making him grip the chair a bit.

"Well...there were two new victims...both were almost exactly the same in every way the could be as the body from a week ago." He paused, searching the other's face which remained unrevealing of any emotion as ever, his dark eyes urging him to continue as he spoke.

"And what ways would those be?" He could swear his voice got lower, but he needed to ignore it, even if he could sense that Hannibal was trying to get his mind off the case, possibly to help or to just toy with him. Knowing him- probably both.

"They all look like me. Their age, height, weight, hair, eye color- even their features. It's like I was staring at distorted versions of myself." Will sighed, the reality finally starting to settle in while Hannibal was listening patiently- the only sign he was there with Will in the room being the sound of his steady breathing.

"This scares you?" Asked Hannibal, though Will could tell it was a question he already knew the answer to.

"No, it..." He swallowed, the words getting caught in his throat like a badly chewn piece of food.

"It's alright, Will. Take your time." Hannibal soothed, watching him carefully. There was care in his eyes and voice that managed to calm the younger man.

"I-I liked the attention...I-I mean- I do. The victim's hearts are all missing..." He pointed out, giving the information on to Hannibal.

"What do you think it means?" The psychiatrist questioned, watching the other intently.

"What do _you_ think it means?" Will shot back almost instantly, both's lips curving into a smile, before Hannibal's face returned to its 'natural' blank slate, words flowing out of his mouth.

"I think that the killer admires you. Hold you on a pedestal. He was willing to kill for you- how do you know he has killed before? Maybe you were the one that brought this side out of him. Began his becoming."

The words hung in the air, swimming around Will's head as he thought it over and over, a headache surfacing sooner than he had liked.

"I'm just...lost between all of this. I can't think properly- my feelings are constantly changing. Toward this killer, toward myself and the things I did-" Will cut himself off before he couldn't anymore and took a shaky breath.

"We change all the time. Change represents our growth as a person. If you never change you don't grow and are therefore not improving in anything. Change can be good, even if we have a hard time seeing it at the start."

Will only watched the other as words flew out, his thoughts somewhat calmer than before. He was right...of course he was, but still...there was just something...

"Do you admire what this killer was willing to do for you?"

Will thought, and even if he wasn't too proud of the answer, he nodded.

"If you met him, see his face, know who he is- what would you ask him?"

That...was a good question. What would he ask? What would they even talk about? His mind came up with a big nothing. Blank.

Hannibal seemed to pick up on the other's frustrations and stood up, his voice bringing Will from his thoughts.

"How about dinner at my place? We could talk about it over a good meal on a full stomach."

Now that he mentioned it... "That sounds...perfect." Will smiled, taking the hand that Hannibal offered, pulling him up from the comfort of the chair.  


*  


The food was prepared surprisingly quick as always. Will had helped a bit with simple things he knew how to do like chopping some vegetables and other things he knew he couldn't screw up.

They were now sat at the table, each with their own plate and a glass of wine. There were no words said, despite the point being they'd discuss more over dinner. The air was thickening as the tension of the silence built, Will's eyes glancing up at Hannibal every few moments.

Hannibal's eyes were filled with hunger, but Will doubted he was hungry for food. Involuntarily he shifted in his seat as the fabric of his pants tightened, and he knew that it was too late then, because Hannibal could always smell the arousal.

He saw the other's eyes change, meaning it was practically over for him. He heard the fork and knife being put down with a gentle clank, Hannibal's eyes now looking at Will intensely. Sweat had already gathered on Will's forehead and the situation hasn't gotten any better downstairs.

"Let me help you." Hannibal offered and stood up, already making his way around the table, and all Will could muster up was a needy plea.

"P-please..." He whimpered softly, not protesting at all when the taller helped him from his chair. He soon felt a wall behind him as he was pushed against it, hot lips placed on his neck that drew out moans.

He didn't fight for dominance- not having enough will for it- and it just felt too good. His mind was set when he felt a knee between his legs, a string of moans and whimpers filling the room.

He wanted more, gripping onto the other's suit and pulling him closer, stepping from his submissive role to suck a mark on Hannibal's neck, the outcome being just what he wanted.

Hannibal's grip grew more harsh as he was pushed against the wall harder, his back hurting. The pain turned to pleasure and he moaned, watching the other through lidded eyes.

Hannibal leaned in, his lips pressed against Will's ear as hot breath lingered on his neck. "You've been incredibly rude, _William_. What should be done about that?"  


*  


Will was woken up by sun in his eyes, making them shut as soon as they opened. He felt a pair of arms around him and instantly nuzzled back into them, turning around to bury his face in the other's chest. The grip on him secured, and he hummed in response, signaling he was awake.

There was silence in the room, the only sound being the synchronized breathing of both men. He felt a hand in his curls, only helping him get more comfortable until the silence was broken by Hannibal.

"Do you think there could be someone else in your life next to what we have here?"

The question...he didn't know what to say. He never even thought of it. So far he hasn't even gone looking for anyone he could share something with. Someone he could love.

"I don't know..." It was all he could say. What if he did find someone? If this killer was...that someone. What would happen with him and Hannibal? He couldn't cheat on the person he loved. He would have to stop all of this and...he wasn't sure he could.

"Know that you have my full support. Whatever may happen, I'll always be right by your side." Will let out a soft sigh, curling up in the other's arms.

Could there be someone...someone that he could _love_ enough to make these feelings toward Hannibal meaningless?  


*  


A few days passed since the night with Hannibal and the fresh bodies. Will did his best to stay away- ignore Jack's calls and texts. Why he hadn't came over to his house he didn't know, but was sure as hell glad. He stayed away from Hannibal, too, and tried to push everything away. He didn't want to deal with it, but the longer he goes on like this, the higher the chance someone comes to his home. If Jack hadn't done it yet, it means he'll definitely send Hannibal. Or Hannibal will come on his own.  
  
He was running his hands through his hair, one after another, making a mess of it over and over. His dogs were visibly nervous and on edge, whining and rubbing against him to try comfort him. He wanted it all to go away.  
  
He didn't want to think about what could be- the life he could have. He didn't know how this was affecting him so much. How he let it affect him so much. Every time he thought of the killer- at least what he's seen so far he can't keep his eyes on the image. The confusion and pressure that nobody is putting on him but himself.  
  
He doesn't want Hannibal to go- he wants him in his life. _Needs_ him in his life.  
  
He was sweating and panting, scratching at his scalp and biting at the inside of his cheek, his lip- breaking the skin and tasted the sweet liquid that came with it. He didn't hear the car, nor the door open. But he did hear the voice. _His_ voice.  
  
"Will." Hannibal's voice was filled with concern, and Will could tell it was sincere. "It's alright. Please try to breathe. Deep breaths." He came behind him and took a gentle hold of his hands, managing to pull them from his bleeding scalp and hair. They were shaky and stiff in his hold.  
  
Will pressed himself back against Hannibal's chest, letting himself feel the closeness. His warmth. The contact of their skin, and he was breathing and calming down. His mind was still a mess, but he was able to change focus from it all and dedicate it to Hannibal. "It's going to be okay." The older man soothed again, putting Will at ease even more.  
  
Will wanted to speak but swallowed the words when the fingers of Hannibal's hand came to trail over his cheek, all the way to his lip. He let his eyes close and sagged back, putting his weight on Hannibal freely. Hannibal helped move him to the bed and continued hugging him, securely holding him close. "I'm afraid…" Will finally whispered, eyes still closed as he only allowed himself to hear and feel the other. No distraction of watching the room.  
  
Hannibal's fingers danced over the curves of Will's face, wandering to his dark hair at times and tucked it neatly with the other strands away from his forehead. "There is nothing you need to be afraid of while I am here, my love." Will felt a tingle run through him from the name. He's never heard Hannibal call him that. Perhaps at the edge of sleep, but he can not be sure.  
  
Regardless of his words, Will continued. "I'm afraid of this…of us. Being like this…I'm afraid of losing it…" He found his breath finally evening, a finger twitching from the brush of Hannibal's lips against his neck. He wanted more. "Is this about the killer?" It didn't sound like it was much of a question. Hannibal knew. And Will knew, that Hannibal knew.  
  
So, he didn't need to answer and only let out a breath, pressing even closer if possible. "I have a confession to make." Hannibal said against Will's ear, making him squirm lightly. "I understand if you will be mad with me." He added, one hand coming down to rest against Will's abdomen, finger tracing the scar that runs across it.  
  
Despite Will wanting to furrow his brows, his face remained relaxed. He couldn't find it in himself to get agitated. Not now. Not like this…not at him. "Okay…" He said breathily, squirming again when he felt Hannibal's hand wander lower beyond the band of his boxers- not quite as deep as he would have liked. There was a soothing hum close to his ear, Will's body reacting almost automatically along with the gentle vibration.  
  
"I killed those men." Hannibal confessed with ease, the words rolling off his tongue.  
  
Somewhere in the back of his mind Will knew he should be…something. Angry? No, not that. He should care about the information. He knew what that meant. That he was being toyed with…and he couldn't find it in himself to admit he liked it. As twisted as it may be. He is sure Hannibal has picked up on it, even before Will has. "Did you now-" Will took in a sharp breath as Hannibal's finger brushed over the base of his length, teasing him physically and mentally.  
  
He was met with yet another, even lower hum. He wanted to buck his hips forward into the touch, but couldn't bring himself to. He wanted Hannibal to have control. To tell him if he wished him to move…if he allowed it. _Don't beg_. Will told himself, biting his tongue. It would only make him look pathetic. And all it does is amuse Hannibal.  
  
"Is there something you would like to say to me, _William_?" Hannibal's voice travelled down Will's spine and almost made him twitch. He was biting his tongue so hard the pain began to numb it. "N-no…" It was the truth. No matter how much he probably should care, he didn't. And that was it. He could do nothing about it. It is, what it is.  
  
He could feel a familiar bulge against his backside, and the one in his own boxers- against Hannibal's hand- was present for way longer than he would probably like to admit. It was addicting. Hannibal's touch, his voice and presence. Hannibal. _Hannibal_.  
  
It's been staring him in the face for so long now.  
  
The truth.  
  
The answer.  
  
Did Hannibal see it already?  
  
Was he waiting for him?  
  
For Will to see it too.  
  
Does breaking their contract really change anything, at all, In the end…?  
  
  
  
_It doesn't._  
  
_ He can see that now._  
  
_ His eyes are open._  
  
_ He can see it._  
  
_ See him._  
  
Hannibal.  
  
_Hannibal_.  
  
"_Hannibal_.…"  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
"Will."


End file.
